Not So Thankful
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: "I'm glad we don't have Thanksgiving in our land, because that dinner would suck." Unfortunately, this was not their land. This was Storybrooke and there was such a thing as Thanksgiving. A look into the dysfunctional family and just how awkward that Thanksgiving might be. One-shot.


_**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the characters involved. Everything belongs to ABC. **_

_**A/N: The minute I heard Charming say his line about how thankful he was for not having Thanksgiving, I knew I just had to write this one-shot. I started imagining what this dysfunctional family would be like during Thanksgiving—mostly in jest—and this is what my mind produced. I hope everyone enjoys it—it's a fun one-shot, that's all. **_

Charming was thankful there was no such thing as Thanksgiving in their land.

Unfortunately, this was not their land. This was Storybrooke, a land previously without magic, and there was such a thing as Thanksgiving. He almost could not believe it when Snow rose early one morning in November and returned with grocery bags bursting with rolls, stuffing, cans of gravy, and a turkey bigger than any she could hunt in the Enchanted Forest.

He nearly drooled into his pillow. There was enough food to feed a kingdom.

Surely this must be a dream.

"Snow, do we _have_ to do this?" Never had the shepherd-prince been reduced to whining, but this was serious business.

"This will be the first real Thanksgiving we spend with Emma and Henry as a family. I want it to be special," she said while draping a new tablecloth over the table. It was a mixture of brown, red, and orange shades with maple leaves and googly-eyed turkeys plastered over it.

"I agree with you so far…but do we necessarily have to invite…_them?"_ Henry's father and grandfather.

Neal Cassidy—or Baelfire, as he was truly named—he could tolerate. Ever since Emma had introduced them, Charming had put on the protective, skeptical father behavior, but he was slowly warming up to him, especially after seeing him grow closer to Henry. Neal wasn't all that good, but he wasn't as bad as half the guys Emma could have brought home.

Take Henry's grandfather, for instance. The thought of sitting across the table from Rumpelstiltskin during Thanksgiving was…Charming shuddered.

"They're part of our family now. We have to be the bigger people and set an example," Snow declared, forever keeping her chin raised high. There was no arguing with his wife once her mind was made up. He snorted decisively. _Between Rumpelstiltskin and the dragon, I'd rather take the dragon. _

"I'd rather be Tiny," he openly remarked. Snow gave him a reassuring smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Such delicate gestures always put a spring in his step. But today, he sighed dejectedly.

"You'll help me with the turkey, right?" She patted his chest. Away he went to her rescue, prepared to do battle with the enormous store-bought turkey. It distracted his mind a little…but not enough.

"Honestly, Snow, do we have to invite Rumpelstiltskin? Can't we just say his invitation got lost in the mail? It works for the Evil Queen." Snow offered him an exasperated look over her shoulder. He removed the turkey from its wrapping, pretending he didn't see it.

"Charming," she warned.

It was too late—his tirade was on a roll, a snowball flying high-speed down a mountain. He slammed the turkey down on the counter and immediately apologized to it in his head. Poor bird. It didn't deserve his upsetting abuse.

"It's just…it's been nothing but awkward ever since we found out he was Henry's grandfather. He and I seem to have this competition. You remember—when we threw that late birthday party for Henry's birthday after the town settled down, I got him some more wooden swords. Hand-crafted by me. The splinters were painful. Rumpelstiltskin shows up and take a guess what his present was."

"Real swords?" Snow droned, playing along.

"Real swords! What sort of grandfather gives his eleven year old grandson real swords? He did it on purpose," he exclaimed. He finished prepping the turkey and began stuffing it forcefully. Snow rolled her eyes playfully as she decorated the table.

"Charming," she tried again, to no avail.

"What about Christmas? Mark my words, he'll do it again. If I carry out my promise to get Henry a real horse, he'll show up with one bigger than mine! A stallion, probably." Stuff, stuff, stuff. This turkey was going to be full to the brim. "Worse, he'll skip on the horse altogether, get with the times, and buy Henry a car."

"Charming!" Snow suddenly cut across his complaints, banging a vase of flowers a little too hard on the table. He glanced up in alarm. "We are inviting Rumpelstiltskin and you two _will_ get along. There is no competition between the two of you—it's all in your head. Do you really think Henry will love one grandfather more than the other?"

She leveled her green eyes at him until he was forced to lower his. A light scarlet touched his cheeks. He knew he was being ridiculous and worrying too much, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. They would be sharing Thanksgivings, birthdays, and Christmases with Rumpelstiltskin. How could she be so…cheerful?

"I know. We'll get through this together and Henry will be fine," Charming reluctantly agreed and slipped his hand out of the turkey again.

Snow smiled and drifted across the floor to give him another kiss on the cheek, but she paused. Her gaze traveled to his hand, flecked with stuffing.

"Charming? Where is your wedding ring?" His brow furrowed. He wore it every day, hadn't taken it off for a second since their marriage. Why, Snow was being silly. His ring was right…

Gone.

He glanced down to the spot where his ring should be, but it wasn't there. A faint outline traced around his finger, marking its previous existence. But…he had it on this morning, this afternoon, moments before he began working with the turkey…

Oh, no. The turkey ate his ring.

Snow motioned a finger from his hand to the turkey in question, mentally putting the pieces together. A knock sounded at the door before she could utter another syllable. The guests were starting to arrive already. Charming winced at the mystery of who stood behind that door.

_Please don't let it be him, please don't let it be him…_

"You…uh, continue working with the turkey…and I'll answer the door," she suggested before flitting off.

Charming stared down at the gigantic turkey in dismay. How was he supposed to find his ring through all the handfuls of stuffing he'd just thrust up there? It seemed impossible…but nothing was impossible. Peeling his sleeve back further, he dove his hand in.

"Rumpelstiltskin, you're early," Snow breathed in surprise from the doorway. Charming grimaced while his hand scrambled inside the turkey. Of all the people that were expected to gather around their dinner table, _he_ had to be the first to arrive.

And Charming was playing needle in a haystack with their dinner. No doubt this would be a pleasant opportunity for Rumpelstiltskin to mock him.

Where was that ring? It had to be inside here somewhere…

"Your invitation specifically requested all arrivals at three o'clock, did it not? I am a very punctual man…Snow White," the imp drawled.

Didn't Rumpelstiltskin ever appreciate the decorum of being fashionably late? And why did he always have to say his wife's name that way? _Snow White…._all ominous and sensual at the same time.

Those creepy hands of his better stay far away from Snow. Charming remembered how Rumpelstiltskin had been so…_touchy _with women.

At that instant, Charming's hand enclosed around something cool and circular. The ring! He found it! It must be the engraving inside the band that read _I will always find you_—it was true, after all. Charming wiped his forehead with his free sleeve and breathed a sigh of relief. He wrenched his arm back, slipping it out of the turkey….

…but his arm caught halfway there before it could be released. It must have been the way he was clenching his fist to hold the ring or perhaps he simply ran out of luck today. It was stuck. Stuck inside the turkey.

"Please, come in," Snow politely offered, stepping kindly out of Rumpelstiltskin's path. Oh, no. It was all the incentive the imp needed to invade the interior of their apartment, his cane tapping hollowly on the floorboards. It echoed in Charming's ears, drawing closer.

Charming tugged again and again, but his arm refused to depart from the turkey. He didn't realize he had stuck it so far up there. And now he sensed two pairs of eyes on his back.

"Charming?" Snow inquired.

It was a stiff demand for him to turn around and greet their "guest." For a moment he stalled, but he knew they would wait for his move. He had no choice but to do as Snow expected, the turkey an extension to his forearm. Snow's eyes widened in alarm and Charming choked out a nervous laugh.

"The turkey is…my hand…it's stuck," he admitted.

He violently waved the arm that was caught inside the turkey in case there was a chance of loosening it, perhaps soaring off. Maybe it would land on their guest. Charming was so glad Rumpelstiltskin never seemed to master the technique of reading minds.

Their guest….well, Rumpelstiltskin did not seem the least bit impressed by Charming's dilemma. His lips tightened into a fixed frown and he stared down his nose at Charming. His jaw clenched noticeably.

"Better his hand than his head, I suppose," he muttered dryly. He glanced pointedly at Snow over his shoulder, whose pristine skin had paled by several degrees. "I do hope your oven is equipped with speed-cook. It takes hours to prepare a turkey for Thanksgiving, dearie."

This made Snow stumble back a step. It looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head, her shoulders slumping with utmost despair. Not once had she ever prepared a Thanksgiving dinner—only once had it been Thanksgiving since Emma arrived and that was when they'd been content to eat dinner at Granny's Inn.

"Hours? For that store-bought thing?" She gawked at the bird on Charming's hand. It didn't look half as appetizing now. "If I were hunting with my spear in the forest, I'd have one ready before you could say _Bibbity Bobbity Boo!" _

Charming studied the raw bird on his arm. Their false memories had been difficult to access lately, what with their true selves prevailing. Clearly, they should have had Emma explain it.

"Thankfully, I've never uttered those silly words once in my 350 years," Rumpelstiltskin replied, fixing his tie carefully over his red dress shirt. Charming forgot all about the bird, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

"350 years? Man, you're older than I thought," Charming gasped before he could prevent the words from reaching his tongue. Even worse, it was the first thing he had aptly said to Rumpelstiltskin yet. Instantly, he wished he could suck the words back in.

"Charming!" Snow chided, her cheeks coloring with shame.

But he wasn't concerned with his wife's disapproval. His crystal blue eyes locked on Rumpelstiltskin, waiting for the inevitable counterattack. Uh-oh.

The temperature in the room dropped at least twenty degrees—Charming wouldn't have been surprised to see his breath fog up. Rumpelstiltskin's ebony eyes narrowed to slits, his knuckles turning white over the head of his gold-topped cane. With terrible purpose, he took a step forward, his finger pointed at Charming's chest.

_This is it, _Charming thought warily, gazing down upon that slender finger as though it were Death's scythe. _He's going to turn me into a snail. He'll make me into a piñata and break me open for candy. He'll change me into a rose, cut my stem, and hand me to Snow. _

But Rumpelstiltskin's finger faltered.

"Be grateful it is Thanksgiving. Otherwise, that bird staked on your arm would be in a far better condition than you," he hissed. Charming had yet to feel the gratitude kick in. "You might want to call Emma and ask her to pick up another turkey. One that has not been pitifully abused. I'll make myself at home."

And Rumpelstiltskin helped himself to Charming's favorite chair and switched on the little television on the wall. He settled back to watch a Charlie Brown special.

"When will that boy ever learn not to kick that football?"

…..

The guests started arriving quickly after that, even though they were still waiting for another turkey. Snow hoped Emma at least got a pre-cooked one from Granny's. She was forced to take a pair of scissors and awkwardly cut Charming out of the turkey. He was just glad to have his ring back.

Red and Granny were the first to arrive after Rumpelstiltskin. Granny shoved two pans of lasagna and ham in Snow's face before wishing her a warm Thanksgiving. Both of them cast wary glances at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Take a picture. I hear it'll last longer, dearies," he lilted impatiently, his eyes hardly moving from the television screen. Granny audibly scoffed, undeterred from Rumpelstiltskin's cold attitude.

"Not if you keep on living another three hundred years. You'll do well to send a prayer up and let us know when they invent flying carriages."

"Flying cars, Granny," Red corrected, though the smile was hard to hide. Rumpelstiltskin huffed in one rough breath.

"Why does everyone insist in picking on me today? First someone leaves a witty Hallmark card in my mailbox mocking me about being a grandfather. Then a water balloon dropped on my head from someone's roof. Then Charming jabs me about my ancient lifeline. And now you, old woman, are calling the kettle black. I'll die when you do."

Granny looked ready to storm across the room and seriously introduce Rumpelstiltskin to her lasagna, but Snow jumped in front of her. Her hands were raised to prevent the confrontation.

"Everyone, it is Thanksgiving! Let's just all…_try_ to get along." Red skipped past, humming something that sounded oddly like 'Why Can't We Be Friends?" Charming wasn't so sure that was a promise he could make. He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Hey, why don't you threaten _her_ with your magical finger?" Charming demanded Rumpelstiltskin, pointing to Granny.

Granny planted her hands on her hips and waited for _this _answer. She was about as killable as an angry bull. Rumpelstiltskin's lips parted in surprise as if Charming suggested he should leap off the Toll Bridge.

"Are you daft? I can't use magic on Granny. Why do you think she charges me extra for pickles? I threatened her once—without magic—and she ran me out of the diner. My leg never hurt so much. If I threaten her with magic, she'll charge me extra for _breathing." _

Granny nodded confidently, confirming his claim. Charming suspected it also had something to do with the fact that Granny was the only female Rumpelstiltskin was genuinely afraid of.

Snow sensed the unease gathering in the room and clapped her hands together.

"So…did anyone catch the parade?"

….

Emma, Neal, and Henry were the last ones to arrive after Archie and the dwarfs, who thankfully left their pickaxes at the mines. After returning from New York, Rumpelstiltskin had procured a generously-sized home for the three of them near his own pink estate. It allowed Emma and Neal to patch up their troublesome relationship, if only for Henry's sake.

The minute Snow opened the door, she received a face full of turkey.

"Here is your turkey. Keep it far away from Charming," Emma flatly stated, shoving it into Snow's arms.

A conga line seemed to form behind her—Snow handed the turkey off to Grumpy, who handed it to Happy, who was all too eager to pass it to Sneezy, who nearly sneezed over it before offering it to Sleepy, who needed to be properly slapped on the back of the head in order to place it on the table.

"Wait…it's not cooked," Doc pointed out. Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and whisked his finger toward the raw bird. It burst into flames.

"Now it is," he said.

Half of the guests swarmed the table in a frenzy to put out the fire on the turkey before the flames spread. Some of them called Rumpel crazy in low murmurs, but the dealmaker either ignored them or stowed their names on his To-Do list for later on.

"Why couldn't you do that with our first turkey and actually cook it?" Snow arched an eyebrow inquiringly. Rumpelstiltskin stalked past her and deliberately tapped his cane on the ground to gain everyone's attention.

"How many of you wish to eat something David Nolan touched?" No one made a move in Charming's defense. The reminder of his second identity as David Nolan ensured that. "Don't all raise your hands at once," Rumpelstiltskin grunted.

From a few feet away, Rumpel caught his son's eye. An unforgiving chill spiraled up his spine and down through his lungs, choking his breath off.

There was The Look again—the sour, disapproving stare that surfaced whenever he succumbed to the use of magic. Honestly, he was trying. He had agreed to participate in Archie's Magic Rehab Program with Regina, just to please his son. Archie even instructed them to do those pitiful trust exercises where someone would catch you upon falling backward.

It wasn't his fault his leg apparently had cramps every time Regina fell backward and she hit her head on the floor. But he certainly didn't believe for a second that those fireballs were a natural response for her. She owed him over $10,000 worth in fried suits.

"I thought you told me you were stopping," he berated tiredly. They had this conversation dozens of times. And every time, Rumpelstiltskin answered with some version of the same answer. He was trying, but it was difficult.

It was worse than an alcoholic giving up the drink.

"I am, Bae, but…that one slipped out," he insisted. Neal stuffed his fists in his pockets and didn't bother meeting his father's gaze. "If it makes you feel better, I have another session for magic rehab scheduled with Dr. Hopper tomorrow."

"That's right, Bae," Archie quickly assured in his soft-spoken mannerism. "We'll be going around Storybrooke, doing all sorts of activities without magic. Shopping for groceries without magic, cooking lunch without magic, driving through traffic—without magic…"

Archie was much too excited about these activities for his own good. Rumpelstiltskin mentally envisioned sticking a finger down his throat in disgust. Doing it here among his son and grandson was poor manners.

"Why don't you stuff me in a crowded elevator and force me to make small talk with people while you're at it?" That would be far more thrilling. Archie's eyes lit up like two shining jewels.

"Excellent idea, Rumpelstiltskin! We'll do that, too. It'll help improve your social skills. Because we all know that if you find yourself annoyed with someone in life, the answer is _not_ to turn them into a snail, right?"

Rumpelstiltskin fantasized jumping out of the window. But this was for Bae, so he held his tongue.

"Either way, you two will have to remain civil. It's Thanksgiving," Granny added in her two cents. Neal bristled.

"Civil? Tell that to the man who crushed a person under his boot and dropped me into a swirling vortex," Neal retorted bitterly. Rumpelstiltskin winced at the gruesome memory. When would Bae stop holding that over his head?

"Be thankful you don't have a tail," Red commented as she swept past him. Neal followed her crimson body with his eyes, momentarily glancing at her lower assets. He blinked questioningly and dipped his head to Emma.

"She's a dog?" Emma patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Wolf."

…..

It was around five before they managed to get the food on the table and everyone settled around the dining table now situated in the middle of the apartment. With Bae and Snow's permission, Rumpelstiltskin used a pinch of magic to rearrange the contents of the room so as to position a dining table inside. Their kitchen table was too small to accommodate everyone.

But now everything had worked out—everyone was gathered in their respective seats around the table. Steam rose from their plates of food, curling underneath their nostrils and tempting them to fill their bellies. Wine had been passed around—except for Henry, who was given a full glass of egg nog.

"Ah, ah, ah," Snow chided and slapped Grumpy's hand to make him drop the forkful of food. He glowered across the table at her. A hungry dwarf wasn't exactly a vacation to mess with. "There's a tradition in this world where we all say something we are thankful for."

She looked around hopefully, but no one shared her enthusiasm. Well, no one except Archie. He nodded proudly in her direction. Everyone else stared down at their plates, being tortured internally by the need to taste the delicious meal.

"Do we still have to do it if we're not from this world? Think about it, sister—we're all mini ET's here," Grumpy pointed out.

The dwarfs inclined their heads in agreement. Emma scraped her fork across her plate, swerving around the food. Rumpelstiltskin looked quite amused by the prospect. Unless her hearing was impaired, Red was beginning to beg.

"Yes, it's part of Thanksgiving," Snow resolutely insisted. Her smile quickly returned to its proper place. "Who wants to go first?" Silence met her ears, thick and pulsing. A dropped pin would sound exactly like an explosion. She bit her lip tentatively. "Alright, I will. I'll set the example. Let's see…I am thankful for….having my daughter back."

Snow smiled across the table at Emma, who appeared a bit unnerved by the intense motherly affection. Charming gaped at her: w_hat about me?_ Snow quickly hurried to cover her steps.

"Oh, and my husband, of course. Where would I be without him?" Snow reached under the table and grasped his hand warmly. He gladly returned the gesture.

"Well, for one thing, that turkey wouldn't have been sorely violated," Rumpelstiltskin dared to murmur from his end of the table. It was loud enough for all to hear. Charming scrunched his napkin in his hand, but the pressure of Snow's hand on his arm seemed to relax his muscles.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind, Rumpelstiltskin. What is it that you're thankful for?"

Archie had the gall to turn the tables on the dealmaker. Snow was impressed by Archie's quick thinking, but it didn't appear that Rumpelstiltskin was very fond of crickets.

"You first," he challenged in a deep growl. Archie blanked for a moment, one hand sloppily fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Heat traveled to the base of his neck as the spotlight landed on him.

"Uh…okay. Well, I am thankful for…my umbrella. And for not falling down that mineshaft to my doom…and for having best friends like Pongo and Marco. Though, I'm open to new friendships as well."

Snow wondered if there was meaning to Archie's furtive glance toward Rumpelstiltskin. Speaking of Rumpel…

He grew uncomfortable in his chair, his back terribly straight as he sensed it was his turn. All eyes fell on him, waiting for the words to tumble from his mouth. His fingers drummed rhythmically on the tabletop.

With a slow breath and a lick of the lips, he cleared his throat to begin.

"Considering the ocean of darkness that has been my long life, I'm afraid there is little for me to be thankful for," he said quietly through nearly gritted teeth. He averted his gaze to his plate. Snow frowned sympathetically. "However, I am not completely ungrateful. I am thankful to Snow White for having some semblance of understanding and inviting me to dinner. I am thankful for the return of my son, whose value I cannot hope to express. I am thankful for Belle, however short a time I had her love. And…I am thankful for my impeccable taste in style in both worlds."

The imp smoothed his palm along the lapels of his suit, just to emphasize his point. There were a couple of modest laughs—they must have thought he was trying to make light of the situation. Or else they were imagining him in those leather pants.

They went around the table in a circle, everyone offering up their individual tokens of thanks.

"I am thankful for being able to outrun Emma's Bug….but not for the fleas." Red.

"I am thankful for Old Bessie." Granny. Old Bessie was the name she had assigned to her beloved crossbow. "I'd be more thankful if Red would take her role as a werewolf seriously and chase out the trouble in this town. Namely Regina and Sparky Pants over there."

She rolled her eyeballs over to Rumpelstiltskin. He traced his finger along the length of his knife warningly. Red must have nudged Granny under the table, for the old woman dropped into stubborn silence.

"I am thankful to no longer be living in a city where strange dirty men stand outside your apartment and demand money. I tried giving one guy a turkey sandwich once and he chased me down the street, trying to hit me over the head with it. Said he wanted liquor," Neal explained, shaking his head.

"If only you'd been here during the Leroy stage," Emma mumbled under her breath. Grumpy tossed her a pointed stare. "Hey, I dragged you to the station more times than I could count. And that was usually for camping out in front of Granny's and claiming people had to pay a toll to get in."

Neal gazed between Emma and Grumpy, but thought better about making any funny remarks.

"And I am thankful for meeting my son," he added. The kid in question poked his head out from around Emma's shoulder to smile brightly at his birth father. Emma scowled haughtily.

"What am I? The recyclable package that only carried the kid?" All eyes switched to her in the aftermath of her abrupt outburst. Her cheeks flushed. "Not that I'm complaining. That's ridiculous. Um…I'm thankful for Henry…and my parents. Though, it's awkward when they forget to leave the sword outside the door to let me know when they're….making tacos. And I am _not_ thankful for having people pop up in my backseat when I'm driving."

Guilty sensations radiated off Neal, Henry, and even Rumpelstiltskin. It ran in the family.

"Ooh, my turn!" Henry jumped up in his seat and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, I am thankful for my mom and my dad….my Gramps…Grandma Snow…Grandpastiltskin…" Charming's mouth dropped open and he whispered something to Snow about not having a cool grandfather name. "Running around with Red when she's a wolf, using a sword, having my own room, having three castles waiting for me when we get home—"

"Henry!" The list had gone on long enough. Henry apologized and passed the spotlight off to someone else. Finally, it was Charming's turn.

"I am thankful for having such a beautiful, devoted, kindhearted wife. I am thankful for my daughter, Emma, who has grown up to be the strong woman I always hoped she would be. A fighter, just like her father. I am thankful for Henry, even when he tries to take my sword. And I am thankful for simply being in such good health."

It all went downhill when Charming happened to glance at Rumpelstiltskin while speaking that last statement.

A fork clattered noisily onto a plate.

"Sorry,_ dearie_, I must be receiving mixed signals. Surely, you didn't intend to single out one of your guests with that last comment?"

Rumpelstiltskin's sharp tone—cruel as glass—made the identity of that offended guest excruciatingly clear. It was a billboard sign even Charming could not miss. The prince rested his elbows casually on the table and forced an endearing smile.

"Of course not. No one at this table has any health issues. No diseases, battle wounds…gimpy legs," he dared to retort.

Snow laid her napkin down on the table and pinched the bridge of her nose. Charming's childish antics were impossible to control. _Here we go, _she mentally groaned.

"May I revoke my previous thanks?" Rumpel clucked his tongue, ready to do so without giving anyone a chance to object. Emma rolled her eyes, her food being forced to sit there on her plate an instant longer.

"What's stopping you so far?" She mumbled, only because everyone else was terrified of Rumpel's wrath to snark off to him. Rumpel's eyes connected with her green ones—a vibrant emerald shade just like her mother's—and he smirked approvingly.

"See, Emma agrees with me. I knew there was a reason I always liked you, Miss Swan," he stated, gesturing a finger directly at her chest. A stroke of heat made its way up her neck as Rumpel more or less declared some sort of affection for her. Then he was off. "I am thankful for having my lovely cane, for which there are many uses besides walking. Air-guitar, reaching high objects, a personal piñata bat, a fancy golf club for hitting massive golf balls…"

Rumpelstiltskin chose to let his gaze linger on Charming's head. The guests watched their dispute back and forth, caught in the middle of a whirlwind tennis match.

"Snow, why didn't you tell me you were inviting along the Tin Man? Quick! Someone fetch him the oil can before his leg locks up," the prince quipped. Someone giggled from Charming's end of the table, but turned it into a disruptive cough. Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth ferociously.

"If I am the Tin Man, then you have the misfortune of being the Scarecrow without a brain. You might want to invest in one—I hear they're all the rage. I recommend EBay." Charming slapped his palm on the table and his back shot up like a skyscraper in his seat.

"You know what I'm thankful for?" He glanced around at each guest.

"The food that is growing cold on our plates?" Emma offered and began to thud her head on the table. There were a few intones of agreement. It must have completely passed over Charming's head. Snow looked like she was meditating to bring about calmness.

"I am_ so_ thankful….that I don't have gray hair," Charming declared.

There was a simultaneous gasp from everyone in the room. It was written dangerously in Rumpelstiltskin's icy brown eyes: he'd crossed the line. Charming was too busy raking his hands through his head of hair to notice. The vibes radiating off Rumpelstiltskin's body formed only one word—murder.

"Why, you marauding—"

Emma covered Henry's ears before Rumpelstiltskin could finish that foul-mouthed curse. No need for the kid to take after Grandpastiltskin in every way. The suit was bad enough. Snow's eyes boggled, a hand pressed to her heart.

A knock at the door silenced the argument, just as Rumpelstiltskin retrieved his cane and wrenched his arm back to chuck it at Charming's head. All eyes turned toward the front door, the knocking growing more frantic with every second that passed.

"Who could it be? All of our guests are here," Snow mused.

Were they missing a dwarf? Snow did a quick count—nope, there were seven. She said a quick prayer for Stealthy, who could not be here with them. He would have enjoyed the crème pie.

"Someone, answer it or you'll never know," Grumpy barked impatiently. Snow and Charming rose from their seats. They did not expect the visitor standing behind the door, pie in hand. Emma frowned displeasingly—she had placed bets on FedEx.

"Ah, wonderful. The turkey's arrived," Rumpelstiltskin snidely remarked, his seat across the room from the door. Everyone cast him disapproving glances, but he was content to ignore them. They were thinking it; he was saying it.

"Sorry I'm late," Regina tried to sound sincere, unlike the time she crashed their wedding. Dolled up in black, she looked like she was attending a funeral instead of Thanksgiving dinner. "I brought pie. It's not apple. Pumpkin."

Charming peered down at the pie, just in case. He was the first to control his tongue.

"Has she ever poisoned someone with a pumpkin?" He whispered to Snow. Only, it was difficult to whisper effectively when all ears were perked to catch their words. The Queen's expression darkened.

"Not that I'm aware," Snow whispered back. It wasn't as low as Charming's dramatic whisper; what was the use of pretending the Queen could not hear every syllable? Regina's crimson lips pouted in sheer annoyance, her sharp nails curling around the plate, the deadly tips sinking into the pie.

"Who invited her?" Grumpy exploded, taking hold of a knife. In one single wave, every head turned in Emma's direction. She paused with a forkful of turkey halfway to her open mouth.

"That wasn't me this time," she disagreed. Snow and Charming exchanged uncertain glances. Their demeanor toward the Queen was the same: _you're not welcome. _Regina must have interpreted it, for she stumbled back a step.

"Thank you for the pie, Your Majesty," Charming accepted the pumpkin pie into his hands. "Your invitation got lost in the mail." The black abyss of Regina's smoky-lidded eyes flashed with indignation.

"Again?"

Whatever else she was planning to say was lost as Charming slammed the door in her face. He proudly strode across the room and deposited the pie on the counter next to the fridge. Everyone rubbed their palms together and picked up their forks to eat…except Snow, who remained standing by the door.

"Charming, it is Thanksgiving," she quietly pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest, a thoughtful expression dominating her features. He pulled their chairs out and waited for her to join his side, but she stayed back.

"Yes, that's why we're having this feast together. What are you waiting for?" Snow bit her lip hesitantly, her gaze trailing back to the door. Charming groaned. "Snow, don't do this." Immediately, she waved her hands to shush his objections.

"Maybe…she has nowhere else to go. You expect us to leave her on the outside looking in? How cruel a fate is that?"

"Not as cruel a fate as ripping out hearts, poisoning you with that apple, tearing our family to shreds, and casting this curse that made us all miserable," Charming argued. He gestured his hands around the room, as though she had forgotten where they were. Snow nodded, but he could tell she wasn't all too convinced.

"I know…but it feels wrong to exclude her this way. Fighting fire with fire is not the answer." She tried to gain support from the group around the table, but each head was bent low. Even Emma had nothing to say to that.

"Sister, that woman doesn't deserve your pity," Grumpy said, glaring at the closed door. Henry scrunched his nose as he thought hard.

"She was trying to change before her mom came here. Maybe she can do it again," he said in his hopeful way. It reminded Snow of something she had said after almost carrying out Regina's execution in their world. People deserved a chance, but how many were you expected to give?

"Cora's gone. Perhaps she sees me as the lesser evil," she reasoned. Charming hung his head dejectedly. "What happened to being the bigger people here?"

The room was still and tense for a full minute. Then Charming tossed his hands in the air. He pulled open the door, but he didn't even have to rush out of the apartment to find Regina. She was standing right in front of the door, checking her watch.

"And….five whole minutes. That's a new record for you," the Queen stated, lowering her arm to her side. She helped herself to their apartment, much to Charming's chagrin. Snow elbowed him and offered her a seat next to Rumpelstiltskin. The imp scooted his chair away toward Archie.

"We were just talking about..." Snow started to say 'thanks' and wondered what Regina would be thankful for. Henry, most likely.

"Rumpelstiltskin's leather pants," Red interjected in good humor. Rumpelstiltskin tore his napkin into little papery snowflakes. Regina could not resist jumping on that bandwagon.

"Oh, believe me, I have stories about his leather pants you'll swear isn't true. Did you ever hear about his mood-changing ones? They change color based purely on his emotions. When he's furious, they're red as a rose. When he's happy, they're golden. And when he goes off on his tangent about true love, why, he puts that little house of his to shame. Pink as can be."

Miraculously, laughter spread around the table. Charming actually relaxed as someone else jabbed Rumpelstiltskin for a change. The dealmaker thrust his cane into the ground.

"For the last time, it is _salmon!" _

…

Everyone left once their bellies were achingly full of turkey and dessert, especially when Charming suggested a game of Pin the Tail on The Turkey. Regina probably wouldn't get those feathers unstitched from her butt for a week. Not even Henry volunteered to play after that tsunami of rage.

Emma and Neal left hand-in-hand while Archie practically hooked arms with Rumpelstiltskin and went into full detail about his upcoming rehab lesson.

"Do not force me to turn you into a frog," Rumpel warned coolly on his way out the door. Archie tagged behind.

"Such hostility is a step backward. But this is still productive. You're getting your feelings out in the open—" Archie hushed up once Rumpel glared over his shoulder. He held his palms up in surrender. "Okay. But can we at least try descending these stairs without magic? Rumpelstiltskin! That railing isn't meant for sliding! I don't care if Mary Poppins can do it!"

Snow shook her head as she closed the door, the apartment falling into silence. It was only her and Charming now. To her amusement, he was gobbling down the Queen's pumpkin pie. And moaning in bliss. What special ingredients did she put in it this time?

"This dinner may have sucked, Snow….but this pie is to die for." Snow strode over and wrapped her arms around his chest, savoring his comforting warmth. She lightly kissed his jaw before snuggling her dark head on his shoulder.

"If you think this is bad, just wait until Christmas."

…


End file.
